


Phasing Through

by kenwaylights



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:55:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwaylights/pseuds/kenwaylights
Summary: We are like ghosts locked in another dimension — we reach but we cannot touch. You notice the death in my eyes and I see how broken your soul is.The strange intimacy that comes with having a PTSD breakdown the same time your loved one does.





	Phasing Through

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a few months ago when I was having a mild episode of PTSD-induced dissociation. It's been sitting in my drafts ever since.
> 
> It's written in flowery "you and I" language, similar to _Brooklyn, Burning_ by Steve Brezenoff. (Highly recommend.) That's because I wanted it to be obscure as to who was Bucky and who was my OC, but also so that you can read this with your OC in mind or as a reader-insert.
> 
> Enjoy.

There was a day when our shutdowns were synced.

 

Neither of us wanted to get out of bed, but I did because I had to walk the dogs and didn’t want to disturb you. I thought you were still sleeping and I was only half-awake myself.

 

But when we came back in, I saw you staring at the ceiling, and you ran a hand over your eyes like you’d been crying, or were about to start. I waved to catch your eye. You didn’t turn all the way to look at me, just mostly moved your eyes.

I asked if you were okay. You must have noticed the death in my eyes after you said no, because then you asked me the same question. I gave you the same answer.

 

It was decided, then, without really discussing it, that we were staying home for the day.

 

I find it funny how even when we feel like ghosts locked in another dimension, we have the insurmountable urge to take care of each other. At 10AM when you noticed my stomach rumble you told me to go eat. I caught you shivering and said we could close the window if you were too cold. Neither of us really did anything about it.

 

I’ve known you for almost four years. We’ve been together through a lot. The remembering, the Sokovia Accords, the fallout, the living on the run, the reconditioning. It was hell. I can’t tell you how many times we looked at each other like we knew we weren’t gonna make it.

 

In all that time, not once had we experienced an alignment of PTSD lows like that.

I’d always thought one of us was gonna be well enough to take care of the other. I’d thought that was the indicator that we were in perfect sync.

 

I guess it doesn’t work that way.

 

And then there we were, lying on the floor together because somehow we’d ended up there, don’t ask me how, and we stared at the ceiling blankly like it would give us deliverance.

 

And then your hand came up and your fingers lost themselves in my hair. I turned to look at you, and your eyes met mine and that was the first thing I felt since waking up — the pang in my heart when I noticed how fucking broken you looked in your soul.

 

I asked if you needed to cry. You forced the softest laugh. I said it was okay if you did. You said you’d already cried it all out till you were dry and repeated it too many times to count, no sense in repeating the process. I know you well enough to know that means you’re hurting so much that you can’t even muster the tears.

 

You asked me if I needed to talk. I said there’s nothing to say I haven’t said a thousand times before. You said you knew the feeling. I know you do.

 

We’re tired but we can’t go back to sleep. We’re hungry but if we eat we may see it again. We’re hurting but it’s the dullest ache that we’ve grown used to over so many years of living with it.

 

Suddenly you did start crying. It wasn’t loud, not visually noticeable, nothing. I just happened to notice the change in the rise and fall of your chest. I reached up to offer my hand to hold. You accepted. Sensitive metal met sensitive skin for the billionth time since we met.

 

Never as long as I live will I forget the first contact. We were both terrified for different reasons that don’t matter anymore and haven’t for years. What matters now is that I have you and you have me and we’re in this together, come hell or high water.

 

I started crying the same as you. The gentle slippage of tears down cheeks, the struggle to maintain even breathing.

 

And then I looked into your eyes and we realised the fundamental truth that would ring true till the day skin and earth collide:

 

These moments would always pass. The sun would always rise. We have gotten through every shutdown up to now, and today would be no different. We would survive, just as we always have.

 

I think that right there was one of our most intimate experiences.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a request, hit me up on my [sideblog!](https://majwind.tumblr.com/wid)
> 
> If you like my work, consider leaving me a tip on Ko-Fi, PayPal or Square Cash! (See my blog sidebar for links.)
> 
> [Click here for the Tumblr version!](https://majwind.tumblr.com/post/176239658794/phasing-through)


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